


venom

by ficfucker



Series: sk dogtruth [4]
Category: Last Podcast on The Left (Podcast) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Homophobia, M/M, Stabbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:27:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25981315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficfucker/pseuds/ficfucker
Summary: an encounter with a stranger goes wrong (or right)
Relationships: Ben Kissel/Marcus Parks
Series: sk dogtruth [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1810639
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	venom

**Author's Note:**

> have a piece in the works about marcus and his childhood and backstory but this emotional vent fic poured out of me

Marcus says, “Say it to my face, motherfucker,” and that’s all that’s needed to get the ball rolling.

The man, obvious by his gaping bullet-hole mouth, wasn’t expecting anything close to aggression in response. He shoulders up and wheels around. His eyes slice over Marcus, deceptively skinny, and sneers. “Hard of hearing, faggot?” he spits. “Told you to watch it.” 

Marcus bares his teeth. Caught between a grimace and a jack-o-lantern grin. The beer spilt down the front of his shirt is cooling rapidly, but in his mind’s eye, it’s the warming splatter of blood. “Let’s take it outside then, big shot. Got a problem with it? Put your money where you fucking mouth is.”

Eyes widen by a centimeter. Contract back defensively, but Marcus has caught the reaction. Fear. His hackles are rising, but the man laughs humorlessly, shakes his head. “Alright, fairy,” he mutters. And he shoves past Marcus toward the door. 

Marcus trails behind. His lungs expand fully in his chest, breathing like a bull. He’s goddamn electric. If he doesn’t reign in, his hands are going to shake. He wasn’t out looking for a kill. Was hardly thinking of it, if he’s being honest. 

Ben wanted some beers. 

Marcus was going to get beers. 

Outside, things are crisp and sweet. A nice night, or could have been. Marcus slides his left foot out, angles his right foot back behind him just so. Peacocking. A cobra wavering side to side before the strike. The man tosses down his unzipped jacket, lets it fall to the crushed gravel. Must think he looks so badass, not caring where he drops his shit. Little boy in his bedroom tossing his socks around. 

Couple inches shorter than Marcus, but thicker, got some arms on him. Not a builder, but no one to laugh at. Marcus is all sinew and adrenaline. He grins again, can practically feel his canines growing in sharper. 

“We doing this or what?”

Marcus grins wider. His face is near to splitting like an overcooked hotdog. He’s still puffing and preening. Wasting time. Just beyond the man, Marcus can see the stolen car with the stolen plates. 

The driver’s side door pops open. It’s so quiet, it almost goes unheard, but everything is finely tuned in Marcus’ head. Hyperaware. The first crack of Ben’s heel hitting the crushed rock goes straight to his dick. Front stunting in his jeans. 

“Go for it,” is what Marcus says. All too delighted. Kid at the candy store.

The man moves in and swings. Marcus ducks and side steps away, pops up like a jack in the box, and serves him a mean sucker to the jaw. His knuckles sing with the collision. Can’t get distracted. Marcus checks his footing and edges back to avoid any out of pocket surprises. The guy is cursing, saying something foul and overly macho, but blood is thundering through Marcus like a voodoo storm. 

A rear back to swing, too exaggerated to mean business, but the hit doesn’t land. Ben is on the bastard. Gets him in a choke from behind that evolves into a messy full nelson. Ben’s face is starkly neutral in comparison to the man’s gurgling surprise. 

Getting him in the car is easy. Ben forces him into the back and once he’s in, Marcus is slithering past Ben to get at the real action. Keys get jabbed into the ignition. The man is fumbling, breathless and confused, and the engine sputters to life. A leg kicks out, hits Marcus in the side. Marcus scrambles a hand into the front seat to where Ben’s is waiting and ready. The buck knife gets traded off and Ben pulls out of the lot with a screech, makes toward a backroad with no street lights. 

It’s dark enough inside the cab that the man must not know what’s coming. To Marcus, a shame. He wants this nobody to experience one last final panic, but there’s no time to play with his food. The knife comes down, explodes blood. Some gets into Marcus’ mouth and the warm tang of metal is what makes him realize he’s panting. The upswing flings more red into the front. Paints the rear mirror like a Pollock. 

Screaming overlaps to a single sound. 

Eventually, with enough holes in him, the man goes silent. 

Sometime during the excitement, Marcus came in his pants. Feels a bit gross now, but he’s still riding the high. 

“Gonna fill me in?” Ben asks. He peers back over his shoulder to get a peek at the scene. Looks like a butcher shop. 

“Called me a faggot.”

Ben hums. He’s rolling past stop signs, not staying in one place for more than a second. They haven’t been in town long, are still working toward California. Where to go next is a bit hazy. 

“Circle around,” Marcus instructs. “Behind the dump. Leave the car, the body, everything.” 

Ben listens. The drive there is quiet. They park right up against the chain link fence and step out of the car. Spare clothes are in the trunk, which is particularly convenient, and Marcus strips from his soiled outfit. Tosses the bloodied jeans and shirt into the back with the body. 

Ben wolf whistles. 

Marcus giggles and pulls on some fresh pants. He paws around in the trunk a minute longer, yanking out whatever he thinks they might want to keep. Another change of clothes. A shaving kit. Two toothbrushes and a single stick of deodorant. Ben’s got all the money between them in his wallet. The buck knife gets a rough cleaning and is returned to Ben’s sheath. Marcus gets what little weed they've got from the glove compartment. The Magnum, too. 

The jerry can in the trunk is taken out, uncapped, and the gasoline sloshing around inside it is splashed over the interior of the car. Thick waves of petrol. Drooled onto the body, slumped and silent. Only five gallons, but it will have to do. Marcus tries his best to pour it evenly but his nerves are spitting firecrackers. 

"All yours, sweetheart," Marcus murmurs, passing Ben the Zippo. 

It takes less than a second for the car to whoosh, roar, and go up in lapping flames. It's quite a show, but there's no time for pyro-masturbation. Ben and Marcus book it, hoof down the street until they can only barely see the orange glow, can hardly hear the crackle and snap. 

From there, they walk. Keep it casual. Marcus can see the outline of Ben's erection through his jeans and he wants desperately to do something about it, but keeps his head about him. 

They've got to find a car. 

They walk by a gas station, a small grocery store. Eventually they reach the one movie theater in town and Ben starts looking into cars, jiggling handles. 

Cop cars and firetrucks whiz by, their sirens blaring, lights blinding. Going the direction Ben and Marcus just came from. Report must've come quick. A sheet of sweat shines on the nape of Marcus' neck. Turned on and scared shitless. 

When does a body become burned beyond recognition. Marcus tries to do the mental math, but there are too many factors, no time to focus. 

Ben says, "Aha," and creaks open the door to a '72 Blazer. Keys dangle in the ignition. Lucky break. Marcus swings into the passenger seat, throws their shit in the back. 

"All nighter," Ben says. 

"And I didn't even get any fuckin' beer." 

Ben chuckles, pats Marcus on the thigh. 

Across town, firefighters blast water at the smoldering corpse of the blackened car. 

In the parking lot of the small bar Ben and Marcus stopped off at for beer, the jacket of the unnamed man still lays, half crumpled, in the gravel. 

In the stolen Blazer, Ben asks Marcus to describe what his first stabbing felt like, in detail.

**Author's Note:**

> should be ankther fic about marcus that's mostly dialog coming up and then the boys will be in cali... henry might get introduced? idk yall tell me what you like
> 
> thank you for reading


End file.
